I play tennis for a living even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion and always have.

Pride is bad, stress is good. I don't want to feel confident. I want to feel rage. Endless, all consuming rage.

It's no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it's all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It's our choice.

You've got to believe you can win. But I believe respect for the fact that you can lose is what you always have to keep in mind so that nothing suprises you.

I question myself every day. That's what I still find motivating about this. I don't have the answers, I don't pretend that I do just because I won the match. Just keep fighting and maybe something good happens.

Remember this. Hold on to this. This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that has any lasting meaning. This is why we're here. To make each other feel safe.

It's shocking how little there is to do with tennis when you're just thinking about nothing except winning every point.